The GALE Gr 
THE FORTY 
THOUSAND 


SOME OF THEM 


WOMAN’S FOREIGN MISSIONARY SOCIETY 
METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH 


Publication Office 
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS 


Lok GALEAOn 
THE FORTY THOUSAND 


HE students at Isabella Thoburn 
College combine practice with 
theory, as the work of the Social 

Service Department clearly shows. 

Groups of students go out into the city 
and hold Sunday Schools wherever the 
children can be gathered together. 

Sometimes there are regular meeting 
places where the children come and wait 
impatiently for the teachers to arrive. 
Such places are at wells, a camel stage or 
in an empty building. Others gather at 
the bend of a lane and passersby, who 
would never go out of their way to attend 
a service, will stop and listen. 

In these groups of children, about every 
other child has a baby sister or brother on 
his or her hip, so the order is not very good 
but when the singing begins they nearly 
all listen or join.in. After their attention 
is secured, the roll is called and names of 
new ones recorded. | 

‘What is your name?” is asked of a 
dainty maiden of about eight. 

“Titali” (butterfly) is her answer, and 
you think her mother showed good judg- 
ment, for she is as sweet and pretty as a 
butterfly, though her gay little garments 
only half cover her. You notice that she 
is not very much bigger than the baby 
sister that she carries on her hip. 


“Isn’t your burden too heavy for you?”’ 
you ask. 

“She isn’t heavy, shels my sister, 1s 
the simple answer. 

“And what is your name?” you ask of 
themvestecittde 

Piyari: a oirl’6= ame) weatie Wielourd 
little boy. 

‘But that is a girl’s name,”’ you remind 
him. 

“Oh. says nis mother whomiac ease 
drawn a vessel of water from the well and 
stops to rest by the little group, “I named 
him that so the gods would not be jealous 
of me for having a little son and take him 
away. ‘They wouldn’t care so much for 
a little girl and when they hear me call 
him Piyari they think he is a girl and do 
not trouble me.” 

Andsyour name. 

= Onichakactsmuallpox)) Sissi ie =ieacy 
answer. You are horrified, but the boy 
explains that before his birth his mother 
had lost three children through smallpox. 
To appease the god and perhaps also to 
deceive it, this name was given and so far 
it had proved a safeguard. 

The next little girl has only a pet name, 
Munia (little darling), and she is alittle 
chatterbox. She takes occasion of your 
speaking to her to tell you that her mother 
is a pardah woman (lives in seclusion 
always) and can never come out and asks 
if you won't come to see her.” She her- 
self, though only about eight, will soon 
be shut away for the rest of her life in 


pardah and she wants you to come to her 
house every Sunday. 

You ask for little Brij Rani (princess) 
who is there every Sunday and you hear 
that she has died during the week of 
plague. It is hard to go on with the les- 
son after that but when Sunday School 
is over you go to see if you can comfort 
the mother. She drives you away with a 
curse, saying it was because you cast an 
evil eye upon her child that she died and 
you go away sad-hearted hoping that 
some day you may be able to teach the 
poor ignorant mother some of the things 
the child had learned. As you leave the 
little hut, a voice calls to you. “Miss 
Sahib,” says a young Mohammedan 
woman, “Brij Rani was daughter-in-law 
to that woman. The child’s life was very 
unhappy at home but she used to long 
for Sunday mornings that she might go 
to your school and hear the things you 
teach. I think the mother-in-law was 
beginning to learn those things from the 
child but she is afraid to let you know it. 
She used to listen to Brij Rani sing your 
songs and if you will come again some 
day when her son is not at home and none 
of the men folk are around, she will let 
you talk to her I am sure.” 

So you can at least be glad that Brij 
Rani was a little missionary before she 
died. 

Would any King’s Herald girl wear a 
dress to Sunday School, the very first time 
you had ever been to Sunday School, too, 


that your brother made for you? Surely 
not, especially if your brother had never 
sewed a dress before. But little Sita had 
no clothes to wear and her brother wanted 
very much to take her to Sunday School 
but he didn’t think she ought to go with 
no clothes, even though they lived in 
India. So somehow he got a few coppers 
and bought a very scant piece of cloth 
and it was such a queer dress he made of 
it! But the little sister got to Sunday 
School and before long she had learned 
more than all the boys, and oh, how 
proud the brother was of her! 

There are more than forty thousand 
children like these we have told you about 
in the city of Lucknow. With the pres- 
ent equipment of the College for this 
sort of work, only about five hundred can 
be reached every Sunday. This number 
could be greatly increased if more stu- 
dents could be trained for the work and 
large numbers could also be gathered for 
a little week-day school in the afternoons, 
if there were only some one to look after 
them. 

Isn’t it fine that the King’s Herald boys 
and girls who have such splendid schools, 
both on Sundays and week days, are going 
to raise this year as their Thank Offering, 
a fund of $3,000 to extend this work 
among the street children of Lucknow? 


A WORD TO LEADERS 


Do not read this leaflet to the 
children. Read it yourself, get 
into the spirit of the opportunity, 
and then tell the story to the 
children. They will respond with 
a desire to do something. 

Give out the ‘Thank you” 
cards, explain clearly how they 
are to be used and make each 
child feel that if a card is taken 
it must be returned, and returned 
filled if possible. 

You as leader are the impelling 
force to make this Thank Offer- 
ing a success. The children will 
do their part gladly. 

Additional material will be 
given in the March, 1919, Junior 
Missionary Friend. 


